Double, Double, Toil and Trouble
by lyralyca
Summary: Dean/Castiel Hogwarts AU for Fic Prompt Contest.


**This is for the Destiel Word Prompt Contest on Tumblr**

**My prompt word was "spell" so I chose to write a Dean/Cas Hogwarts AU.**

**Rating PG for mild violence.**

* * *

><p>When Dean is 11 years old, he sees an owl. It's during one of the brief stints his family stays in a caravan park instead of a motel, and he is outside in the yard area behind their caravan. It is broad daylight. Naturally, he shoots at it with the rifle he had been cleaning for his father. He misses and it scarpers, and John comes running out to him.<p>

"Dean! You okay? What was the gun shot?" John yells as he comes closer.

"I saw an owl." Dean says simply. Sam's face appears in the caravan window before the door creaks and he walks over to his brother and father.

"Dean, how many times do I gotta tell you? You do not use these guns; you're not ready yet. You could have hurt yourself!" John says with a sigh, as though they had already had the same conversation a few times before.

"Owls are night birdies though, aren't they Dad?" A little voice pipes up from behind John. "What if it was a demon spying on us?"

Dean shoots Sam an appreciative look.

"Sammy, hey, no one's spying on us, okay? No demons can get us while I'm here." John kneels down to put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "But you're a smart boy, for noticing that."

Sam's resilient little 7-year-old mind is obviously set at rest at his father's words, because he asks with complete innocence, as though there had been no previous conversation, "Can I have a PB and J sammich please Daddy?"

After John has taken Sam back into the caravan, taking the gun with him, Dean sits on an old log and stares into the trees behind the park. He catches something in the corner of his eye and jumps up immediately, small fists bunched and ready. The owl is back, but this time Dean notices something tied to its leg. The owl is wary of the boy who just tried to shoot him, but obviously has a duty to fulfil, because it sticks its leg out and gives Dean an almost expectant look. As soon as Dean's nimble fingers detach the letter from the owl it screeches and flies away into the distance.

The paper feels rough and strange to Dean's fingers and his tongue sticks out of his mouth slightly as he concentrates on opening the wax seal. Dean wonders who would be sending letters to him and not his father, and who would know exactly where they were staying, but not enough to alert his father or be too worried. He has never gotten mail before and he's excited.

As Dean starts to read, '_Dear Mr Winchester'_, John comes back outside with a plate. "I made you a sandwich too, m'boy," he says as he comes over to ruffle Dean's hair. "What's that?" John sets the plate down on the log previously occupied by Dean, and reads over his shoulder.

"School? But the last school I applied to for you guys was…" he trails off as he skims the rest of the letter. "London? Toads? Cauldrons? What the hell is this?"

Dean hardly notices as his Dad grabs the letter and runs back inside. His mouth hangs open as he thinks about what the letter said. _Me? A wizard?_ His young mind immediately latches on to the idea. After all, they encounter the supernatural and paranormal every day, why shouldn't there be wizards? And good ones, too? This was everything Dean could want. To go to school, to be able to talk about the stuff he did, be relatively "normal", and for there to be a better life for Sammy. Because if Dean was going to school, Sam was too.

Dean walks over to the caravan slowly, thinking about what the letter said about school supplies and wondering where his dad kept his hammer so he could open his piggy bank again. Last time it was when John wasn't there and Sam had wanted Reese's cups. Dean had used his savings in the vending machine of the motel they were staying at and it had placated Sam until John came back the next day.

He opens the creaky door and listens to his father on the phone.

"Missouri, is this some kind of joke? … What do you mean, you applied for them? … Wizard school? Forgive me if I'm having a hard time belie- …" John is cut off and it sounds like he is getting his ear chewed off by Missouri, the psychic who lives in Kansas. Since Mary died and they hit the road, Missouri is the one he calls with anything regarding the kids.

"Okay, okay," John sounds calmer now, "So it's boarding school… and Sam has to wait until he's 11 too? ... how do we pay? … school trust fund … I don't kn-" Missouri lays into him again, and Dean hears a few words like "grateful", "do it for the boys", "don't be too proud" and John sighs. "Alright, but what about passports? How are we going to get to London?"

Dean thinks his heart might burst.

…

Dean and Missouri are walking through King's Cross Station when Dean sees some people in very strange clothes. He tugs Missouri's sleeve and they move closer.

"Alright Fred, George, dears, please behave yourselves this year. I'll have Charlie keeping an eye on you before he graduates! Percy, work hard and you could be picked as a prefect next year," a plump, kind looking woman is fussing over a troupe of orange haired children. "Alright, here we go. Charlie, you first."

Dean watches as the oldest boy called Charlie walks towards the brick column between platforms 9 and 10 and promptly disappears. He looks up at Missouri with wide eyes and she smiles down at him. "I'll leave you here, Dean. I'll tell your father that you got off okay, you know why he couldn't come, don't you dear?" Dean nods, remembering the tearful goodbye at JFK airport. John couldn't get a passport, but luckily Missouri already had one, and she thought she could pick up some business while she was in London. Dean wishes he didn't have to leave Sammy behind, and had almost refused to go, but in the end it was Sam who convinced him to. He'd told Dean that it would be awesome to have a 'pen pal' and made him promise to send back weird British wizarding stuff and assured Dean that he would get to go himself in a few years, and that he had to keep their dad company anyway.

Missouri kisses him on the cheek and watches him run towards the brick wall with his backpack. Because Dean is on a bursary of sorts, he will receive second hand books and robes and will collect them once he arrives at Hogwarts.

Dean is dumbstruck when he sees the big red engine in front of him. It finally occurs to him that he needs to get _on_ the train to get to school and he scurries off to find a compartment. He is looking out the window as the train starts to move, playing with the amulet around his neck and thinking of Sam when the compartment door slides open. A boy with dark hair and wide, blue eyes slides in and glances at Dean before looking at his feet. Dean is too shy to say anything, and he knows that his accent is going to make him an outsider anyway, so he goes back to looking out the window. Every so often he steals a glance at the pale, skinny boy sitting across the compartment who is also stealing glances at the green eyed, rosy-cheeked Dean.

The boy is already wearing some of the funny robes Dean saw the red-haired family wearing, and he sees on them the same "H" crest that came on his letter. He wonders what's going to happen when he shows up in jeans and a flannel shirt because he doesn't have his robes yet, and thinks that it's just going to be another thing that sets him apart from the other kids. This might not be as amazing as Dean had initially thought.

Little did he know, the dark haired boy had been watching these emotions play across Dean's face, and without thinking slid down his seat and reached across to place his hand on top of Dean's. Dean's eyebrows raised and green lock onto blue, each as startled as the other. This lasted a few seconds before Dean cleared his throat and the boy drew his hand back as though he had been burned, sliding back on the side and eyes darting to the floor again.

"Uh…" Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to give away his accent just yet. "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester."

Dean was disappointed to only get a mumble in return, after he had given away one of his secrets. He goes back to staring out the window, but soon gets a tingly feeling and realises that the boy is now staring at him unabashedly. It freaks him out.

"I'm-Castiel-Novak-I-have-three-brothers-and-one-sister-and-my-parents-are-doctors-we-are-from-Kent-and-they-make-me-go-to-church-every-Sunday-they-did-not-like-me-coming-here-they-said-it-was-blasphemous-will-you-be-my-friend?"

Dean is once again speechless. He takes a few seconds to process what 'Castiel' has said because of the accent, the speed at which the words were hurled out of his mouth, and the strange depth to the 11-year-old voice.

He realises that the boy is hanging on the edge of his seat, waiting for Dean's answer.

"Uh, yes, yeah, okay, sure," Dean blurts out. Castiel sighs with relief and a small smile plays at the corner of his lips before he realises how hard he's been staring and quickly looks at the floor again.

They don't say another word to each other for the rest of the train ride, but Dean feels relieved to have made a friend, however weird he may be and however much he stares, because he had assumed he was going to be the outcast.

As the train slows to a halt, Dean and Castiel stand up, both are almost physically shaking with nerves. As they move into the corridor with other students, Dean grabs Castiel's arm. "Can I call you Cas?" he asks, much to the dark haired boy's astonishment.

"Y-yes, you may," 'Cas' replies before he is swept away into the crowd of black. Dean sticks out like a sore thumb on the platform and is attracting looks and giggles from all the students in their robes.

"HEY, YOU THERE!" a great rumbling voice bellows from somewhere behind Dean. "WINCHEST'R?"

Dean spins around to find himself looking at a giant man wearing a huge coat with more pockets than he could count, brandishing a pink umbrella and grinning down at him.

"Got yer robes, quick just pull 'em over yer muggle clothes," the man says cheerfully.

"Thanks mister," Dean says appreciatively, pulling the robes over his head.

"Hoh! Don't be callin' me mister!" The giant laughs. "I'm Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Groundskeeper o' Hogwarts and keeper of keys. Follow me, we got ter get all you firs' years up to the castle for sortin'." He strides off, calling the first years to follow him.

Dean, grateful to be invisible in the crowd, starts to move with the other first years before stopping to watch where the rest of the students are going. Some very weird looking horses are pulling their carriages, but no one else seems to notice or even look at them.

Dean feels a tug on his sleeve and turns around to see Castiel's pale, nervous face peering at him anxiously. "Come on Dean," Cas says. "We have to keep up so we don't get left behind."

He seems honestly anxious that they wouldn't be let in to the school if they didn't stick with the moving sea of black robes.

"Can't you see them?" Dean asks, turning back to look at the skeleton-like horses.

"The carriages?" Cas asks quietly, following Dean's line of sight. "Are you muggle-born?"

"What?" Dean has no idea what Cas is talking about but he realises that they are being left behind by the crowd. "Quick!" he says, hurrying off.

Cas catches up to him and again, without thinking, takes Dean's hand. They run up the hill together and join the crowd as the first students are lowering themselves into boats that will take them across the huge, black lake. Dean is grateful to feel Cas' hand in his, cool but comforting, as they wait their turn. It eases some of his nerves that had been growing since Hagrid had mentioned 'sorting'.

"Hey look, it's a plimpy!" Dean says happily, pointing towards the water as they glide across the lake. Cas' eyebrows furrow and his head tilts to the side as he wonders how Dean knows what that is if he's a muggle-born.

"What are you?" Cas asks Dean, staring at him again without blinking. Dean has never been asked that before and is not sure how to answer.

"I'm a… what did you say before, muggle?" He replies nervously.

"No, a muggle is someone who doesn't know about magic. You are muggle-born, as in your parents are not witches or wizards." Cas says, with an air of one who is definitely _not_ muggle-born. "I guessed it when you were so amazed that the carriages were moving by themselves."

"What?" Dean says, taken aback. "They weren't moving themselves, there were humungous horses pulling them along! That's what I was trying to say, no one else was looking at them but they were butt ugly."

Castiel doesn't know what humungous means but he makes a mental note to check the library about this matter as soon as he knows where it is. Dean watches a crease form in Cas' brow and thinks maybe he shouldn't have said anything. Maybe he was just crazy and no one else _could_ see them at all.

"C..Cas?" Dean asks, hesitantly, trying out the new nickname he had come up with.

"Y… yes?" Cas says, suddenly shy again, all of his previous pompousness evaporated.

"What's sorting?"

This is a question Cas is comfortable with, as he has spent the summer reading up on Hogwarts, and his voice once again takes a knowledgeable tone. "There are four houses at Hogwarts, which each take students with particular qualities. There is a magical hat which once placed on your head tells you which house you will be in."

The young boys look at each other, both suddenly thinking the same thing and both worried. Dean breaks the silence, "I hope I'm in the same house as you." This makes Cas blush furiously, and he returns to being shy and stares at the bottom of the boat.

They reach the other side of the lake and are greeted in the entrance hall of the castle by Professor McGonagall. Dean takes in his surroundings- the moving portraits and the suits of armour, and feels a warmth beginning in his toes and rising slowly- a sense that this is _home._ Finally, some kind of constant in his topsy-turvy life. He turns to Cas and smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile of happiness. Cas is taken aback and slowly the corners of his lips turn up in return. Then they start to giggle, two little eleven-year-old boys about to face the unknown, but it's okay because they have found each other. They keep giggling, or rather, trying to stifle their laughter until they reach the front of the Great Hall where the sorting hat is, and their breath is lost as they stop looking at each other and take in their surroundings for the first time.

The hall is filled with hundreds of students, and Dean wonders how the wax from the candles floating above them isn't dripping on their heads. He looks up at the clear sky above him and elbows Castiel who looks up with his mouth wide open.

Then the sorting begins, and the boys watch the reactions at what appear to be the house tables as each first year sits under the hat. When it's Castiel Novak's turn, he gets sorted into Hufflepuff, which looks like a cheery lot of students with yellow trimming on their uniforms. Cas walks over nervously but glances back at Dean with a small smile. When it's Dean's turn, the hat stalls.

"Hmmmm, so much to work with here, so much to consider…" it says, to Dean's alarm, inside his head. Dean just wants to be where Castiel is. "Yes, there's definitely some Hufflepuff in there, you are fiercely loyal to your family, that much is clear… However… no… there's more… you have to be brave to do what you do, how extraordinary, a hunter… yes… okay, GRYFFINDOR!" The hat screams without giving Dean a chance to argue.

Dean is crestfallen; he tries to spot Cas as he is cheered over to the table decorated with red. When they finally lock eyes, Cas loos like he is about to cry. Dean feels miserable and not even the pumpkin pie can cheer him up. The first friend he makes and now they're supposed to be rivals? Great.

The next morning however, at breakfast, Cas comes to sit next to Dean at one of the long tables. "What are you doing?" Dean asks.

"I'm trying apricot jam for the first time," Cas replies, happily. "My parents never let me have it. They said that sweet things are the devil's food." He catches sight of Dean's face and adds, around a mouthful of toast, "They're rather religious."

"No I mean what are you doing at this table?" Dean asks, almost in a whisper, as though he will get in trouble for drawing attention to this mixing of houses.

"It's… a breakfast table. I'm eating breakfast," Cas says, his head tilting and eyebrows furrowing in a way that Dean now recognises to be confusion. Dean looks around and realises that the house decorations have disappeared from each table.

"Huh," he says, looking down at the table. "So we're allowed to be friends?" His face is anxious and hopeful as he turns to Cas.

"Yes!" Cas says with a shy smile. "I asked a prefect yesterday. The houses are just there to have common rooms, sort out classes and play Quidditch against each other. We won't get in trouble for talking, but we're not allowed to go in each other's common room," he continues, and Dean gets the idea that Cas likes to follow rules to the letter, except perhaps his parents'. He gets a sudden urge to suggest sneaking him into the Hufflepuff common room just to see what Cas' reaction would be, but doesn't want to annoy him so soon in their friendship.

"What's Quidditch?" he says instead.

…

Dean manages to keep his secret for the first few days, keeping his head down and only talking to Cas. However, the potions master calls upon him in their first class with the Slytherins, and Dean, suspicious of the hook nose and greasy hair, hesitates to answer.

"I'm waiting, Mr…?" Professor Snape drawls.

"W.. Winchester, sir," Dean says, almost in a whisper.

"Well, Mr Winchester, tell me then, what is one ingredient required for a Sleeping Draught? And speak up!" Snape asks again, as every pair of eyes in the room stares at Dean expectantly.

"Lavender, sir," Dean says, louder this time. Everyone in the room giggles.

Snape frowns. "Where are you from, Winchester?"

"Lawrence, Kansas, sir," Dean says, his cheeks turning bright red.

"Whatever happened to standards?" Snape says; eyes filled with contempt as he looks at Dean. "They let anyone into this school these days."

The Slytherins in the room snigger and Dean slides down in his seat, hoping to just disappear. He stops listening as Snape continues with the lesson and wonders why he is the only foreigner at the school. Everyone else is British, are there no wizarding schools in the states? Dean comes out of his reverie in time to scribble down the homework (he'd only just gotten the hang of quills) before the class is dismissed.

He is walking down the corridor, lost in thought, when Cas comes out of a classroom down the hall where he'd been in Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. "What's wrong?" Cas asks immediately.

Dean tells him about the incident with Snape. "I just don't get why I'm here," Dean admits.

"Does it matter?" Cas replies, a stern look on his face. "You're here now, and I'm glad you are. If there was a wizarding school in America for you to go to we'd never have met."

Dean looks up at Cas and smiles, and this time he is the one to grab Cas' hand as they walk down the corridor.

…

Apparently word travels fast at boarding schools. Dean started looking for short cuts and secret passageways to his classes to avoid being whispered about and giggled at in the corridors. He was sure not to draw attention to himself in class lest the teachers should call upon him and he be subject to further embarrassment. This didn't work with Snape, however, who directed every second question to Dean, the answers often being something that would be pronounced differently between Britain and the United States.

Cas sticks by his side, and they study together in the library and the grounds, since neither could go into the other's common room. One day Cas built up the courage to ask Dean why he could see the horses pulling the carriages (he had read up on them since the day they arrived at Hogwarts but didn't want to intrude on Dean's privacy).

"I don't know," Dean says, shrugging. "Wait, so they really exist? What are they? How do you know? Why couldn't you see them before?"

"Dean…" Cas hesitates. "You can only see them if you've seen death." He watches Dean's face turn from confusion to sadness. "I'm... I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me," Cas blurts, blushing.

"Well, it could have been anyone," Dean says bitterly. Cas looks confused before Dean continues, "I'm a hunter, Cas. We hunt bad things, magic things. Ghosts and demons and monsters. I thought I'd fit in well here and be able to talk about all this, but I guess all these pompous Brits have had a much more sheltered upbringing."

Cas' mouth is open slightly, and his eyebrows are once again furrowed in the way Dean has come to find endearing.

"I'm sorry, you're not included in that," Dean says quickly. "Although, you are a little pompous," he says with a smile.

"Was there… was there anyone you knew?"

"Mum died when I was four, and that's why we started hunting."

"I'm sorry," Cas says, and suddenly pulls Dean into the tightest embrace he's ever experienced.

"Don't be," Dean mumbles into Cas' shoulder, but he doesn't want to let go. They finally pull away and each has a shy little smile on their face.

"What about you?" Dean asks. "Tell me about that family of yours."

"Well there isn't much more to tell you than I did on the train," Cas says. "Religious parents, I'm the youngest of five, and I've pretty much been disowned because apparently magic is sinful."

"Well I don't think so. Not this stuff, anyway," Dean says thoughtfully. "I've seen bad magic and this definitely isn't it." That was apparently exactly what Cas needed to hear, because Dean suddenly finds himself in another rib crushing hug.

…

It's now Dean's third week and he thinks he's getting the hang of everything. He's still being followed by whispers and taunts but they haven't been getting to him, because he's got Cas. However, that week, the bullying had transferred to the unusual, dark haired boy from Hufflepuff too. Cas doesn't seem to mind, but now Dean hasn't seen him all day and is getting progressively more anxious with each hour. _What if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore? I wouldn't blame him. He's probably sick of being laughed at being seen with me. Great. Maybe I should just ask to go home. Dad was stupid for letting me come here._

However, by the time class finishes for the day, Dean wonders why he hasn't even seen Cas coming out of classrooms or in the great hall at lunch time. _Surely he wouldn't want to avoid me to _that_ extent…_ Dean thinks. _And who else would he be hanging out with? _Dean decides to go looking.

After a while he finds himself at Hagrid's hut in t he school grounds. "Excuse me mister," Dean says timidly to the giant man.

"What'd I tell yer?" Hagrid laughs. "I ain't no mister!"

"Sorry, Hagrid, sir," Dean manages as Hagrid beams down at him. "Have you seen a first year Hufflepuff come out here today?"

"The one that's usually plastered to yer side?" Hagrid asks, a crease forming on his forehead. "I did see a bunch o' kids walking around the lake, one definitely had Hufflepuff robes, the others were Slytherin. Though' it was kind o' strange, actually."

"Which way?" Dean asks, heart dropping. He runs off as soon as Hagrid raises his finger to point him in the right direction.

Dean is out of breath by the time he hears voices coming from the trees at the edge of the forest at the far end of the lake. He slows down to listen.

"You're a blood traitor, you know that?" He hears a snide voice say. "Just as bad as a mudblood in my opinion."

"Yeah," another voice says, "What should we practice next, Macnair?"

Dean knows Macnair to be a particularly nasty Slytherin student, who brags about his father's occupation (an executioner at the ministry) as a way to intimidate first years. He doesn't know the other voice, or the other faces he sees as he peers around a tree, but he can tell that Macnair is the ringleader here.

"Hmm," Macnair circles around a trembling but oddly stiff Cas, "How about an unforgiveable this time?"

The other students look at each other. They obviously hadn't bargained for this. Body-binding curses were one thing, but unforgiveables?

"Hey mate, won't we get in trouble for that?" one student is brave enough to ask.

"If anyone here is too chicken, leave now." Macnair says, turning to the other students, daring them to defy him. No one moved. "Right then, you go first." He points at another Slythern who turns to Cas and says meekly, "Cruciatus!"

Cas screws his eyes shut and his face bunches up. He twitches for a second but then stops. "Pathetic," Macnair snarls. He murmurs the counter curse for _Petrificus Totalus_ and Cas falls to his knees on the forest floor.

"Are you ready, you stupid git?" Macnair asks as he takes a step towards Cas. Dean knows he has to act now, but he hasn't actually been able to cast one successful spell yet, and doesn't know what to do.

"Cruciatus!" Macnair shouts, and Cas curls up into the fetal position and makes a horrible moaning noise that rips at Dean's heart.

He leaps out from behind the tree with his wand out and yells "EXPELLIARMUS" with as much concentration as he can muster. Macnair's wand flies out of his hand and Dean runs forward to promptly punch him in the nose. The rest of the Slyertherins flee and Macnair coughs as blood runs into his mouth. He takes one wide-eyed look at Dean before running after his gang.

Cas is looking up at Dean in awe. It makes Dean uncomfortable, so he avoids eye contact and instead pulls Cas up to stand. "You okay?" he asks, suddenly shy. Cas doesn't say a word, but instead, leans in and gives Dean a kiss on the cheek. Dean goes bright red and twists his foot into the ground before finally locking eyes with Cas.

"You're my h-" Cas starts to say, when Dean plops a peck on his lips. They both look sheepishly at the ground before linking hands and walking back to the castle.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Dean says, as they make their way around the lake. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore."

"Don't ever think that," Cas says sternly. "Never, ever."

Dean laughs, and they both break into a run towards the castle, hoping that there's still some pumpkin pie left in the great hall.


End file.
